


Immortal in Time

by turntechGodhead (FallenAutte)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Immortal!John Egbert, Immortality, M/M, Memoirs, Time Travel, Time Traveler!Dave Strider
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:14:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29041455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallenAutte/pseuds/turntechGodhead
Summary: John is an ancient immortal being, trying to live his life with days gone by, blurring together as the years fly.Dave is a cool kid from the far future, one who figured out time travel, and makes it a personal goal to explore and experience all of history for himself.One day they meet in the medieval streets of Waterford, Ireland, and thus begins a long journey of time and love.
Relationships: John Egbert/Dave Strider
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

The first time I see you, you are wandering around aimlessly in a time you clearly don't come from. Curious, I follow you, until you stop in the middle of the cobblestone street with a wondrous look on your face. Your bright red garb stands glaringly obvious in the streets of earth tones. You are catching countless stares, yet your shielded eyes seem to remain fixed on the sky. I can't see them behind the dark glass discs on your face, yet I can somehow tell they are closed to soak up the medieval sun.

You move out of the street suddenly, startled when a carriage driver shouts at you and his horse nearly shoves you out of the way. Your expression doesn't change, though. You seem mystified by everything around you. You stare at the men and women passing by, and briefly watch a pair of children who squeal past you, until you notice me standing nearby, but not too close, and watching you with my own sense of mysticism on my face.

You almost have half the mind to approach me, and I nearly have the same, but for whatever reason we both decide against it and instead turn away from each other in nearly the same moment. You walk away, and disappear into a nook between two shops, but I don't miss the glance back towards me to see if I am still there.

I continue on my way down the street after several moments of pondering, and pass by the alley in which you disappeared to, only to find that there is no opening on the other side, and you are nowhere to be seen. I decide to head to my home for the day and think about what I had just seen. In all my years on God's green Earth, I had never seen anything so fascinating quite like you.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A familiar stranger returns to my shop, but he seems to have aged impossibly since the last time I saw him.

Several weeks have passed since I saw you, the stranger who came from a time or place that didn't belong here, and the sighting of you is stored in the back of my mind. I no longer think much of it, as my work keeps me busy in my day to day life with new thoughts cramming my skull until old thoughts get pushed out. It isn't until a man who looks far too old to be alive stumbles into my toy shop. A familiar pair of dark, glass discs shields his aged face, and a faded, red robe wraps around his body. Despite the aged nature of the cloth, I recognize it instantly. You look up and remove your glasses, folding them and sticking them in the collar of the shirt under your robe. Your stunning, twinkling, red eyes, framed by wrinkling crow's feet catch my immediate attention as you approach the front counter, behind which I stand to observe you.

All you say at first is my name in an accent foreign to me. Your aged voice cracks into a cough that shakes your whole body.

"Are you alright?" I ask, and you respond in a rusty mockup of my language.

"I am old," you say, "and I fear I have not much time left. I would like to spend my time with someone who is kind and loves easily." There is a blaze in your red eyes that sparkles when you look into mine despite your age. You seem determined to spend what time you have left with _me_ , for a reason I don't yet know.

I almost apologize and say that I am not the person you should seek, but the determination that you carry in the way you stand and look at me compels me to agree. I nod my head and walk around the counter, past you, and to the front door, where I flip a wooden, painted sign to indicate that my shop is closed for the time being. You watch me every second, but it doesn't feel uncomfortable to me. I can tell that the way you look at me is out of admiration more than anything, and that knowledge brings me a sense of peace. I once again approach you, and lead you into the back room. A stairwell is attached to the storage that leads up to my home, and you follow me quietly up the stairs. My home isn't very large, but it is comfortable, and it is all that I need. I lead you to my bedroom and offer you my bed to rest in, and you gratefully accept.

"Do you need anything, sir?" I ask, while you settle under the light blue sheets. You shake your head at first, but correct yourself as a thought comes to your head.

"Water, please...and a paper if you have any." As a storekeeper, of course I have paper. I find it an odd request, but I oblige you. I leave you in the room alone to grab your requested items and bring them back to you. You have set your glasses down on the table beside my bed by the time I return, but other than that, you haven't done anything. You thank me as you take the items from me, but place the paper on the table for now. As you drink down the water I provided you, I ask if there's anything else you need. You shake your head with a grin, and I return back to my work.

**~♡~**

It is only hours later that I return and find you sleeping peacefully. The page I gave you has been folded neatly in half and tucked under the cup I gave you the water in with my name written on it. I figure I will take a look at it in the morning, as for now it is too dark to read without straining my eyes or using an oil lamp, and I fear waking you with the artificial light. Instead, I just walk around the bed to the opposite side and carefully climb in. I do not think much of sharing the space with you, especially as you are already asleep. With my back turned towards you, I close my eyes, and allow myself to drift off to sleep.

My dreams are filled with visions of you, young and old. Speaking in languages I don't understand yet I can fully understand at the same time. Declarations of love and bonds unbreakable by time itself. Dreams have a way of mystifying and bewildering that I can never fully comprehend. These are no different.

I sleep through the night with little issue, but when I sit up in bed to stretch my tiredness away, I notice there is no warmth next to me despite the presence of your body. A contented look is on your face, and you look beyond peaceful, but there is no denying that you have passed on from this realm. A wave of sadness washes over me, but I am unsure of how to truly deal with this issue. An old stranger died in my bed while I slept...I decide I should visit the pastor today to have your body taken for burial, but for now the thought of leaving you to rest here sticks in my mind.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave comes around to issue an important warning.

Many years pass, and eventually you are gone from my mind almost entirely. Almost.

The note that you wrote to me before you passed on still hangs heavy on my thoughts. Red ink, something I have never seen before up close, and never this bright a shade, writes quite plainly my name and a message in a language I don't know. I also keep your glasses, though I don't use them for anything. They sit and collect dust on one of my shelves. Other than that, you are just a memory to me. A once...no, twice in a lifetime phenomenon that not even I will encounter again.

How wrong must I be?

The next time I encounter you, you are young again. Donned in a different bright red outfit from before, you're once again wandering the streets of my city home, but this time you are looking into shops and windows, obviously looking for something. I happen across you on my way to my own shop from the food market. My shop is a quaint little toy store that I've had for many decades. I have it labelled as a "family business," but that is far from the truth. I have no family, it has always been me.

You have what looks like an envelope clutched in your hand, and I wonder briefly what it's for, until I realize you're headed straight for my shop, yourself. I speed up my walk, and I catch up to you just as you reach the door.

"Excuse me," I say, reaching into my pocket to pull out the key. I shift the sack of food that I'm carrying in my arm to have better access, and you offer to carry it for me. I hesitate, but accept the offer, handing the sack to you. I unlock the door, and go inside. You follow close behind.

"So," I begin, setting my keys down on the counter. "What brings you here today?"

You take a moment to respond, as if thinking, but you hand me my food in the meantime, which I set down behind the counter. "I was looking to deliver something...for you, I mean."

"For me?" You nod, seeming nervous, and then hand the envelope to me. It's a plain, white envelope, no seal or anything special to close it, the flap is merely tucked inside haphazardly. My name is written clearly on the front in red ink, the same red ink as is on the note I have collecting dust upstairs. You take a step back, as if contemplating leaving already, when I open it and pull the contents out.

The papers inside are folded neatly, so I unfold them carefully to find text - far too neat to have been handwritten - with drawings too detailed to have been hand drawn decorating the page. Unlike the note, I am able to vaguely understand the words written down on this, although the grammar is poor and some words do not make sense. On the last page, there is only text, and it is larger and heavier in weight. "A plague is coming," it says, and then it lists several things on symptoms and "how to fight it" including keeping myself secluded and washing up frequently. Alarmed, I look up to ask a question, only to find that you are nowhere to be seen. I did not hear the bell go off at the door, nor did I hear footsteps going up the stairs in the back, so my only conclusion is that you simply vanished the same way you did the first time I saw you.

The arm holding the papers lowers slightly as I look around in disappointment. I was hoping to talk to you some more, especially about these papers you gave to me, but that won't be a possibility now. I walk around to behind the counter, and tuck the papers back into the envelope to tuck them behind the counter on the shelves below. I will try to keep this on my mind, but I don't know what to do about it for now.

Part of me hopes you're wrong...but most of me knows you're right.

**~♡~**

As months pass, people start to fall ill and die around the city, and I realize the papers that you gave me are right. I mull over them tirelessly through the first few months, studying what I should do to keep myself safe. I know I cannot die from any sort of illness, but I can still be a carrier, and the last thing I want is to infect other people. So I do everything that the papers say I should do.

The following years fly by terrifyingly. Everyone I could consider a close friend dies, their bodies littering the streets and filling the city with the smell of decaying flesh. I board up my shop, and only leave for food, which I try to buy in bulk when I can. I haven't truly interacted with another human in years...and it gets lonely...

Being alone all this time gives me a lot of time to think and ponder on things I don't quite understand yet. I spend days doing research with the resources I have on hand (which isn't very much, admittedly...) and pray that this terrible disaster will end soon. I do keep track of things in the city, but it's difficult when there is little to no postage or word-of-mouth available.

It isn't until four years after you warned me that I see you again. You're banging on the door to my shop with a red cloth over your nose and mouth, but I hardly need that to recognize you. Your distinct, white hair paired with the red clothes and dark glasses tell me who you are immediately. You seem to relax a bit upon seeing me come out onto the main floor of the shop, and ease up on your pounding of the door. I let you in almost without thinking...almost...but I figure that you should be a safe one to let in, considering you knew about the plague to begin with, and better yet, knew how to fight it. If you aren't dead by now, then you must be safe.

It takes a moment to unlock the door and pull it open, but you shuffle inside quickly once it is, and I close the door behind you. Your clothes are different, but other than that, you don't seem any older or younger than you were the last time I saw you. You look anxious, but your body loosens every time you look at me.

"Is there something you need, Mister..." I try to pull a name from my memory, but there is none there, and it occurs to me that we have never exchanged names before.

"Strider," you say. "Dave Strider."

I nod my head in acknowledgement, a pleasant smile gracing my face. "It's nice to know you, Mister Strider. I am John Egbert. May I ask you something?" This time, you nod your head, and I continue. "How did you know all of this was going to happen?"

Your body stiffens, and you bring an arm up to scratch at the back of your neck. Despite your glasses and the cloth covering your face, I can tell you're nervous.

"You don't have to tell me if you can't or don't want to, especially if it will get you in unnecessary trouble." As much as my curiosity pains me, I would hate to bring unneeded harm to you. You ease up a little, but not by much.

"Thank you..." you sigh. "I'm just not ready to tell you."

"Well, I'm glad to see you again, Strider. I was fearful that everyone I knew would be dead by now."

"I have my ways of staying away from danger," you say, but continue before I can ask what you seem to know is on my mind. "Those are part of my secret, though." A little disappointed, I merely nod my understanding.

"Forgive me," I apologize. "Would you like to go upstairs? I have a kitchen we can sit in while we talk." You ponder for a moment, and nod your head slowly, to which I smile and lead you into the back room. I look behind to make sure you're following, and when you meet with me again, I take you up the stairs that lead into my bedroom. I am about to walk around my bed to go through the door that leads into the kitchen, but your voice stops me.

"Where did you get those?" you ask, looking at the old shades I have stored on my shelf. I figured you wouldn't know. You are much younger than the old stranger who died here many years ago.

"An old friend who died gave them to me," I explain. I figure it would be a good idea not to go into too much detail.

"Of the plague?"

"Old age."

You nod solemnly. Your expression is completely unreadable behind your facial coverings, and your body gives nothing away either, but I like to think that you're mournful in the moment.

You continue to follow me into the next room without any questions.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters in one day B) hell yeah  
> this is the first misc scene because i couldnt think of what to write next  
> by this point dave knows that john is an immortal and john knows some wacky shit is going on with dave but hes not exactly sure what it is yet  
> either way theyre gay

As many years pass, I cannot get you out of my head. I catch glimpses of you in the street, but every single time, you vanish before I can get a good look. Bright red garments dance in the corner of my vision and turn brown when I look at them directly.

I dream of you on countless occasions, except we are lovers in these dreams. Whispering sweet nothings to one another and making declarations of love. Your sweet touch warms me, comforts me, keeps me sane...

I swear, I must be going crazy.

That is until you enter my shop again, sixty years after I last saw you, looking like you've barely aged a day.

It is just now that I finally get a good look at you, as I have nothing distracting me in the moment, and I notice just how...unique and stunning everything about you is. Your hair is lighter than any I've ever seen before, and your tanned skin is darker than most folks around here. Freckles litter your nose and cheeks, obscured by your glasses, and your jaw is well defined without being sharp. The cloth you wear is bright red with white and gold details in the shapes of interlocking gears. A red cape is wrapped around your shoulders, to keep you warm is what I assume, as the city is cold and bitter this time of the year. The fabric seems too clean, too well made to be from this time. Even with a loom, it is difficult to get fabric that high quality, and I can tell just by looking at it.

It seems well obvious, like what I observed all those years ago, that you are either not from this time, or a very, very wealthy man.

Something tells me that it has to do with the former option...but I don't say anything about it, because frankly, the thought makes me feel crazy.

"Mister Strider!" I greet, a smile on my face, and you pause your approach towards me. A moment of confusion flashes on your face, but melts away almost before I can notice it. Almost.

"Hello, John," you say in return, a smile of your own showing your impossibly white teeth. Your smile is adorable, I say to myself, and I make a mental note to try to see it more often.

"What brings you in here today?" I ask, propping my elbow on the counter and leaning forwards towards you. You chuckle slightly, shaking your head.

"Nothing in particular, I guess. I just wanted to see you."

"Oh?" This answer piques my interests. "How come?"

"Something about you and your shop draws me in, I guess." The way you speak is lax and simple, but the accent behind your words is almost deafening, and makes it difficult to understand you, but I manage. Your gaze drifts around my shop, head turning towards the simple displays of wooden people and plush animals. "What got you into toy making?"

This is a question I get from many adults while they stand around, waiting for their child to pick out a toy and bring it to the counter, so it's an answer I have ready to go whenever anybody walks in, yet somehow I find myself stumbling over the answer this time. Perhaps it's because I never expected it from you...?

"Oh," I start, thinking of how to word my answer. "My father was a woodworker, and would make me toys and games out of the wood. He taught me how to do the same thing, and I found I enjoyed doing it. I would sell the toys and trinkets I made to the kids on the street, and this was my first job. It wasn't until my father passed that I was able to set up shop here. It used to be his old woodworking shop."

"That's nice." Your response seems genuine, and I notice now that your attention has returned to me.

"What do you do?" My curiosity is bugging me - if it means I can get even a glimpse at what this man does for a living, I might be able to figure out where or when he comes from.

"Oh, I compose my own music. It's not very popular, but it's more of a hobby than anything." That answer catches me off guard - you don't seem like someone who would be a musical composer to me. Before I can ask about it though, you continue. "I'm also a researcher into strange happenings and paranormal activity, but I specialize in paradoxes and especially time-related stuff..." Your voice trails off, and you look away briefly. I momentarily wonder if you think you have said too much, but you return your gaze back to me in almost no time at all.

"That's...interesting." I am genuinely curious about what this stuff that you research is, and I do ask about it: "What are some things you've found?"

You're too quick to answer. "Oh, uh...that's some secret stuff. It'd be kind of hard to understand for someone who doesn't already get the jist of it, I guess." My disappointment must be clear on my face, because you apologize shortly.

I was about to ask something else, but I'm cut off by someone else entering the shop. I greet them casually as I always do, before turning my attention back to you, but you suddenly seem nervous. I assume it's because of the presence of another person in the room, and I'm just about to offer to let you into the back room, but you cut me off by saying: "I think I need to go. It was nice talking to you, John."

Before I can protest, your back is turned and you head out the door. Your cape billows from the gust of winter wind that rushes into the shop as the door opens, and you pull it around yourself more tightly. I don't miss the glance back at me as you leave.

I dream of you again, that night.

**Author's Note:**

> The rest of the chapters are going to be a lot longer. This is just an introduction chapter. That being said, I hope you enjoyed it. I am actively working on the next few chapters and they should be published in the next few days.


End file.
